


Tumblings

by pocky_slash



Category: Bomb Girls, Hawkeye (Comics), Welcome to Night Vale, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Crossover, Established Relationship, F/F, Ficlet Collection, Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 18,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets I've posted on Tumblr. Mostly XMFC, mostly Charles/Erik with a sprinkling of other pairings and fandoms.</p><p>Each chapter has a quick summary of the ficlet within. Lots of tiny AUs. Nothing more than 1000 words.</p><p><b>eta:</b> December 30, 2013: Chapters 15-27 added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. promise me you won’t leave me behind

**Author's Note:**

> I'll put notes with a short summary before each part. This was for a first line challenge. The line was "Just promise you won't leave me behind." Takes place in the [Work/Life Balance](http://archiveofourown.org/series/39875) series, wherein Charles was a child actor and Erik was his best friend and is now his husband.

“Just promise me you won’t leave me behind.”

The words are a slap in the face of Charles’ jubilant mood. He stares at Erik, speechless. Erik, usually overflowing with self-confidence and unwilling to back down, stares at the

“What…” Charles starts to say, then again, “What?” when no other words are forthcoming.

“You’re going to go off and meet all these other kids and become famous,” Erik says. He’s picking nervously at a scab on the back of his hand and he still won’t look at Charles. “You’re going to do all these cool things. Which is cool. I mean, that stuff’s okay, I guess. But. You’re all I have.”

There’s something in Erik’s face, in the very brief look Charles gets at it when Erik looks up and then away just as quickly, that makes Charles’ chest hurt. That Erik would say those words, that he’d make that concession—Erik doesn’t let anything get him down. He’s tough. He’s…resilient. Charles has always admired that, has always wanted to be more like Erik, who never lets life get him down and who probably wouldn’t cry in secret after hearing some of the things Kurt says. Erik is strong and hearing him ask this of Charles is awful. It hurts, because Charles knows it must hurt Erik, it must hurt him an awful lot for him to admit it like this.

It hurts Charles, too. He can’t imagine a life without Erik. He can’t imagine having other friends, other people to talk to. The new kids might be nice and friendly and fun, but they’ll never be Erik. They’ll never know the secret handshake and they’ll never have all the same jokes and they probably won’t laugh until they cry over stupid drawings, at least not the way Charles and Erik do. They won’t know about Kurt and Cain and all the hiding places around the house and all the secret spots on the grounds.

They’ll be great, but they will never, ever replace his best friend. They’ll never make his whole heart swell like this, huge and warm and beating wildly in his chest as he lunges forward and grabs Erik’s hand.

“I wouldn’t!” he insists. “I couldn’t. I would never. Erik, you’re my best friend!”

Erik looks at him, then, just a slide of his eyes, peering sideways over at Charles without moving his head. He turns his hand in Charles’ and twists their fingers together. When they were little, they used to drag each other by the hand everywhere. Erik’s stopped in the past couple years. He’s stopped other things too, left them behind as they reached puberty. Erik’s thirteen, now, and Charles will be thirteen soon, too. They don’t hold hands. They don’t cling to each other. Except Erik is shuffling forward and wrapping his arms around Charles, a little stiff, a little unsure. He’s way taller than Charles, now. He can rest his chin on Charles’ head, and he does and it’s—it’s nice. It’s really nice. Resting his head on Erik’s chest and holding onto him is slowing the rapid pace of Charles’ heartbeat, which has been out of control since the man from the television network had called to speak to him and his mom.

“I could never leave you behind,” Charles whispers. “I wouldn’t even know where I was without you.”


	2. put the "fun" in funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first line meme. The line was, “When you said you were bringing me somewhere nice, I didn’t think you meant a funeral."

“When you said you were bringing me somewhere nice, I didn’t think you meant a funeral,” Charles says.

Erik looks away and rubs the back of his neck. Okay. This is. Okay. Awkward as fuck.

“Yes,” Erik says. “I can see how this is weird, now.”

He should have thought this through. He should have put some effort into it. When Charles said, ‘Yes, let’s do this again, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he should have said he was busy, not, ‘I have a thing, but you can come with me.’ He could have at least mentioned it was a funeral, if not in that moment, then perhaps when Charles said, ‘Oh, brilliant, what should I wear?’

It’s their second date. Well, third if you count the sex on Friday night, which Erik doesn’t, because that was mostly about how drunk and horny they both were, about how hot Charles is as opposed to how _attractive_. That was about the way Charles moved his hips and sucked on the stirrer in his cocktail, not about the sound of his laugh and the color of his eyes and the way his forehead crinkles when he frowns.

(It’s still about his mouth, though. Erik thinks it’s always going to be about his mouth.)

He needs to stop thinking like this. Second date. _Second date_. Second date is awkwardly broaching the topic of past relationships, not writing your names together in a heart on the inside of the side flap of your trapper keeper. It’s also not generally held at your co-worker’s mother’s funeral.

This is why Erik doesn’t date. This is why he fucks attractive men and doesn’t give them his phone number afterwards. This is what happens when he gets too keen on someone. He gets eager and needy and the situation explodes. Except, well, it was Charles who immediately suggested a second date. So this awkwardness is Charles’ punishment for being too eager, where the value of “too eager” is actually equal to “exactly how eager Erik is.”

All of that goes through his mind in the space of just a few seconds. Not even long enough for the silence to get awkward. Well, awkwarder. He doesn’t say any of it out loud. What he says is, “There’s free food, and I don’t actually know anyone here. We could roleplay.”

Charles raises an eyebrow.

“What I mean,” Erik says, his tone not betraying his internal mortification, “is you can pretend you’re my bitterly estranged husband or something.”

Oh god, that’s _even worse_ , or it would be, if it wasn’t for the way Charles’ face breaks into a delighted grin.

“Oh, do, let’s!” he says quickly. “I take a disturbing amount of satisfaction in fucking with people.”

Second date. Second date. Second date. Far too soon for Erik to decide he might be in love.


	3. parenting duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first line meme. The line was, _It’s your turn to get up,_ Charles thinks, not lifting his face from the pillow.

_It’s your turn to get up,_ Charles thinks, not lifting his face from the pillow; beside him, Erik grumbles sleepily, just audible over the sound of the baby’s wails.

“I don’t understand how she can have my genetic material and your disposition,” Erik mutters. “Of course she won’t shut up.”

Charles sends him the mental equivalent of a pinch. He’d kick him as well, but that would involve moving. _She’s a baby. She can’t exactly tell us what’s wrong, yet._ Erik groans and rolls onto his back.

_I’m just saying, I was an incredibly docile baby,_ Erik thinks. _I never cried._

_I didn’t either,_ Charles says with more of an edge than he means to, _Because I learned very quickly that if I cried, no one would come anyway._

Erik stills. There’s a spike of shame and then the bed springs creak and the mattress shifts and Erik is getting out of bed and heading to the nursery.

Charles sighs and rolls over, opening his eyes. That was uncalled for on at least three different levels. He’s just so bloody _tired_. Between work and Lorna and trying to carve out time to just look at Erik for five minutes a day, he’s down to about three hours of sleep a night.

They just need to get this last grant proposal in. If they get the grant, they’ll have all the funding in order for the conference and he’ll get a nice two week break before he has to get serious about planning the nuts and bolts. Two weeks without the tension in Erik’s muscles that always sets in when Charles is out in public speaking out about mutant politics. “Courting a hate crime,” Erik calls it, as if Charles wouldn’t be able to sense an assassin before they could pull the trigger. As if Erik’s behind the scenes advocacy isn’t dangerous as well. As if Erik didn’t spend his youth purposely running head-first into the kinds of conflicts that Charles holds these symposiums to try and prevent.

He squeezes his eyes shut. This isn’t about Erik’s checkered past, this is about Charles being a bastard. Well, being overtired and lashing out. He stares up at the ceiling until the cries quiet and then pushes himself upright. Upright is the last place he wants to be, but as he stumbles out of the bedroom and into the nursery to the sight of Erik rocking Lorna back and forth in his arms, he reevaluates that. Maybe this is exactly where he wants to be.


	4. no particular reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a perfectly mundane day, for no particular reason, Charles realizes they should probably get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this photo](http://fourteenacross.tumblr.com/post/45523374087/kay-i-got-it-it-was-a-perfectly-mundane-day) of McAvoy.

It was a perfectly mundane day. It wasn’t good or bad, just an ordinary Wednesday, the type that reliably passes the time between the excruciating drag of Monday morning and the enthusiastic relief of Friday afternoon. Charles gave his morning lecture, helped a few struggling students with their lab reports, and spent the afternoon updating his slide decks from last semester’s lectures to reflect the slightly modified course of this semester’s curriculum. At four thirty, Erik texted him.

_Dinner?_

Charles barely looked up from his laptop as he typed back, one-handed, _Korean?_

_Meet you there,_ buzzed the reply less than a minute later. He noted it, put his phone back on the desk, and went back to adjusting his powerpoint.

Erik was already waiting for him outside their favorite Korean Barbecue. Charles kissed him in greeting and followed him inside. Their conversation was pleasant, but not particularly noteworthy. Erik’s co-workers were twits. Charles’ undergrads were promising. Both remained skeptical of the other’s assessment. There were long stretches of comfortable, familiar silence. Charles reminded Erik they were meeting Raven for bunch on Saturday morning. Erik reminded Charles they needed to go grocery shopping before next week.

The sun was nearly set by the time they began to walk back towards their apartment. Erik pulled a knit cap out of his pocket and Charles cursed the gloves that were sitting atop of a pile of papers on the desk in his office. He hunched over against the wind and held his scarf close, grimly determined, until Erik squeezed his shoulder. He turned around. Erik was holding out a pair of fleece lined gloves that Charles knew, from experience, were very warm.

“Take them, you’re freezing,” Erik said. If Charles was anyone else in the world, Erik would have said he deserved to be cold for not keeping track of his things, as usual.

Charles took the gloves slowly and looked at Erik. _Looked_ at Erik.

“Thank you,” he said. Then, “I think we should get married.”

If Erik was startled, it didn’t show on his face. His expression didn’t change at all. Charles put on the gloves, still watching.

“Any particular reason?” Erik finally asked.

“No,” Charles said honestly. “I just thought, ‘Well, this is an incredibly ordinary day, but I like it.’ And I think I’d like for all the rest of my incredibly ordinary days for the rest of my life to be just like this. Would you?” He paused and added, “And I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, really. But you know that.”

Erik hummed in acknowledgement. He smiled, just a little—barely a smile on anyone else, but so very telling on Erik’s face—and said, “Okay. Sure.” The smile widened. Charles smiled too. “Come on, you’re still freezing. You need to wear a heavier coat. It’s not spring yet.”

“It’s after daylight savings,” Charles said. “It’s close enough.”

Erik held out his hand, and Charles took it easily, naturally, and they began walking once again.


	5. yellow journalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MAGNETO to marry PROFESSOR X!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this headline](http://fourteenacross.tumblr.com/post/45759402784/this-is-the-article-in-question-erik) about Ian McKellen officiating Patrick Stewart's wedding.

Erik drops the tabloid directly on top of the _Times_. Charles doesn't have to look at it to know why Erik is so incensed--he's known from the moment Erik saw the rag in the convenience store check-out, from the moment he angrily purchased it instead of the milk he had intended to buy. Charles followed his anger back to the car and back up the road and into the garage and then into the school, through the hallways until it was right in front of him.

Still, he spends a long moment looking incredulously up at Erik over the tops of his glasses, before pointedly looking back down at the paper, even though he already knows what it says.

_MAGNETO To Marry PROFESSOR X!_

There's a picture of Erik in the uniform he hasn't worn since the early seventies, during the uncomfortable period of their separation, the years they try to avoid in polite conversation. The photo of Charles is more recent, unfortunately. He thinks it may be from his last congressional testimony, about six months ago.

"It doesn't seem fair that you get to be full of youth and vitality in your trashy tabloid photo and I'm still old and bald," he says. "It rather makes me look like I'm robbing the cradle."

" _Charles,_ " Erik says between his teeth.

"You're older than me," Charles continues. "And it's not as if you're not still attractive. Although, I suppose they were going for the contrast of you in the costume and me cloaked in respectability--"

" _Charles!_ "

Charles smiles sweetly up at Erik. "Yes, my love?" he asks.

"This was supposed to be--how do they know about this?" he asks. "Who's been talking to the press? Because I have no problem adjusting chore rotations and grades as punishment!"

"No one's been talking to the press," Charles says, moving the tabloid off to the side. It's not entirely a lie. He's rather sure he can trace the story from a student to her baseline sister to a twitter account to an innocuous tweet that somehow got picked up by a reporter. The rest, he imagines, was easy, as he explains to Erik. "We had to register for the marriage license. These things become a matter of public record. It's not as if we could have kept it secret for long." He raises an eyebrow and waits for Erik to take the bait, but much to his surprise, after a moment of tense silence, Erik merely sighs and sits across from him.

It's not the first argument they've had about the covert nature of their impending nuptials. In an interesting inversion from the early days of their romance, Charles has encouraged Erik to be much more open about their relationship, while Erik has become more guarded. Charles hasn't minded much, but the level of secrecy surrounding the wedding that they're finally, after fifty years, allowed to legally have, has been something of a sore spot.

"I'm not...ashamed," Erik says.

"I would never imagine for a moment that you were," Charles says.

"This is ours," Erik says. "Through all of it--the school, the children, Stryker, Kelly, the Phoenix, the Shi'ar, the sentinels, the bills and laws, the protests and terrorism, through Cuba, through Shaw, through _Magneto_ \--this is ours. Sometimes it was all I had. I don't want a spectacle. I want it to be _for us_. We're the ones who've been waiting all these years."

Charles blinks back a threatening wetness in his eyes and reaches across the table to take Erik's hand.

"I wish you had mentioned that _before_ we planned the party," Charles says. Erik turns his gaze to the window, embarrassed, which is a rare and quite sweet look on him.

"Everyone wanted a party," he says. " _You_ wanted a party."

"What about what you wanted?" Charles asks.

"I want you to be happy," Erik says, and Charles loses the battle with his tears, wiping discreetly at his eyes and sending Erik a tendril of the affection building up in his chest.

The wedding is three days away. They applied for the marriage license last week, just another errand to take care of while they were in town. Hank can be relied on to keep a secret.

"You're an old fool, Erik," Charles says. "Go get dressed. Wear something nice and meet Hank and me in the garage in twenty minutes." Charles pushes himself away from the table, already summoning Hank from his lab.

"What are you up to?" Erik asks, slowly getting to his feet.

"We have nothing planned today, a marriage license waiting for signatures, and a favor to call in with a judge in White Plains," Charles says. He heads towards the elevator and turns to smile at Erik over his shoulder. "It's the twenty-first century, darling. I see no reason why we can't both get what we want."


	6. three sentence AUs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of AUs based on tumblr prompts. Each story could only be three sentences long. All of them are contained in this chapter.

**charles/erik (duh), DINOSAURS** (for **pearlo** )

“RAWR!” says Erik, and before Charles can stop it, his T-Rex comes stomping down on the mounds of sand Charles had constructed, hills and burrows that served as home for the mismatched group of dinosaurs sitting next to him in the sandbox.

“Erik!” he says, but Erik is smiling for the first time since he came to stay with Charles and he’s happy, it’s pouring off of him and it doesn’t take much of it for Charles’ frown to disappear as well.

He picks up a triceratops in one hand and a ankylosaurus in the other and says, “Oh no, the meteor is coming!” and joins Erik in smashing the tiny sand dunes, laughing with him and smiling all the way until dinner time.

 

***

 

**Betty/Kate, mutant school AU :D** (for **littledust** )

Betty’s been at Xavier’s long enough that she’s gotten nearly surgically precise with her power—she can transfer exactly the right amount of energy into anything to make it explode exactly the way she wants it to. She’s proud of her progress, she’s grateful for her control.

She’s confused, then, by the fact that when Kate Andrews’ singing startles her out of her concentration, leaves her unable to contain herself, unable to control the explosions she can make with her fingertips, all she can do is smile as her heart races.

 

***

 

**charles/erik, Competing serial killers** (for **synekdokee** )

It’s a different style than Erik takes, that’s for certain: Erik likes to make it clear what they’ve done wrong, likes to make them suffer, likes to make their friends and family suffer for allowing this sort of filth to exist in the world, unchecked. This though—this is elegant and bloodless and nearly invisible, save for the look of horror on the dirtbag’s face.

This is the third one of Erik’s marks to die this way in a week, and Erik very much wants to meet the new face taking out the worst of the anti-mutant bigots before he decides if this is territory worth fighting over.

 

***

 

**charles/erik, teenage runaways** (for **pearlo** )

They chose the summer because it was easiest to disappear without teachers and administrators calling parents, because Erik’s foster parents didn’t see him for days at a time during the summer, because Charles’ parents didn’t see him for weeks at a time, period. It’s convenient, too, for saving money—Charles’ trust fund doesn’t kick in until he’s 18, another three years, so they’re living on what little savings they’ve squirreled away since last September when they started this and they can make it go farther when they sleep outside.

It should be hard (and Erik’s not stupid—it will get harder as the days get colder), but Erik wakes up in Charles’ arms and goes to sleep under the stars and he’s never felt so free.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, Charles is the editor of a children's book imprint, well known for nurturing writers and guiding them to step up their game. Erik is... a writer, a translator, another editor, a publisher...? Just a guy he bumps into at the pizza place?Charles is exhausted—he needs to hire more people, he knows it, but he wants to choose them himself, wants to make sure they carry the ideals that he’s built this imprint on, and with everything else going on, he’s not had a moment to look at resumes, let alone interview.** (for **Cesare** )

Charles is exhausted—he needs to hire more people, he knows it, but he wants to choose them himself, wants to make sure they carry the ideals that he’s built this imprint on, and with everything else going on, he’s not had a moment to look at resumes, let alone interview.

Until now, at least, and if all the candidates were like this—brilliant, speaks five languages, amazing portfolio, single father (and gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous)—Charles might have started a little earlier.

When Erik goes, he leaves Charles with a sketch—quick and soft, ignoring the bags under Charles’ eyes and capturing the curve of his smile—and Charles knows he’s found the new director of his art department.

 

***

 

**Moira/Nick laundry day at home. It counts as AU. Right?** (for **ang3lsh1** )

“You know that bit about finding laundry comforting was bullshit cover, right?” Moira asks Nick a few weeks into the thing brewing between them, a few weeks that Moira has mostly spent at Nick’s apartment.

He just laughs and takes the laundry basket out of her hands.

“Yeah, I figured, but I was telling the truth,” he says, and heads down towards the laundry room because, dear god, he really is the perfect boyfriend.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, Old West?** (for **Cesare** )

By the third hand, people are starting to grumble, to stare at the out of towner distrustfully as he collects his winnings and smiles full of fake apologies, all of the regulars angry, while Erik is…intrigued.

_You’re not the only one who’s intrigued_ , a voice in his head says later, in the middle of the fight that breaks out after the fourth hand, as two bullets stop in mid-air inches from Erik’s face. Erik smiles as he jumps on his horse, the stranger not far behind him.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik. The cabin in the woods.** (for **ang3lsh1** )

“Have we ever had a male virgin before?” Hank asks, and Charles, who’s usually so quick to rattle off past statistics and success rates, doesn’t jump in with a reminder of 1981 and how outdated gender stereotypes and the rise of “Ashley” as a girl’s name nearly ruined the sacrifice until someone in the lab realized the girl they had pegged as the virgin was not the “Ashley” they had read about in their briefing notes and research. Instead, he’s staring at the screen, taking in the boy’s sharp profile, his scowl, the way he’s pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his fingers, the way he’s not meshing easily with the rest of his so-called friends.

“It’s odd,” he murmurs absently, following the boy’s movements up towards the cabin, “but I almost think I’m rooting for him.”

 

***

 

**Cherik. Knights AU** (for **kageillusionz** )

“You’re not in love,” Raven tells him as he sighs happily, staring at the ceiling with his headset lying on his chest and his computer running next ot him, “you can’t fall in love with a computer animated knight just because he saves you during an imaginary video game raid.”

“I’m not in love with the knight,” Charles explains, “I’m in love with the boy playing the knight.”

Raven rolls her eyes and leaves, but Charles doesn’t care; he grins like a loon as he puts his headset back on, unmutes his mic, and says a little breathlessly, “Okay, Magneto, this is the Professor—I’m back.”

 

***

 

**jean/wanda, mutant school** (for **pearlo** )

Wanda still wakes up in the night, sometimes, frightened and confused and ready to run. It’s been three months since they moved into Charles’ school, all three of them, into _Jean’s school_ , but Wanda still remembers before—the fear and the running and the people hunting them.

Those nights, Jean is in her bed almost before she can make a noise, brushing her hair back and saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe now, Wanda, you’re safe,” reminding Wanda that life is behind her and she’s loved and protected and _home._

 

***

 

**Erik/Charles - Jane Austen** (for **labelledame** )

“I think it’s tripe,” Erik says, tossing the book on the floor.

“I think it’s romantic,” Charles says, and opens his to a page he’s marked and reads, “ _‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope… I have loved none but you.’_ ”

Erik swallows as the words flow over him in Charles’ beautiful accent and he reconsiders his stance on Austen.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik - with baby Raven** (for **ang31sh1** )

When Charles finally gets home from his meeting at the university, the penthouse is oddly quiet—low lights, the television off, Erik’s computer closed on the coffee table. He finds Erik in their bedroom, lying on the bed, asleep with Raven sleeping on his chest, still wrapped in a towel.

His heart aches at the sight, swelling with affection and joy as he toes off his shoes and curls up next to them on the bed, still smiling as he closes his eyes.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, spin the bottle** (for **allthatihavemet** )

The bottle wobbles just for a moment, just on the cusp of pointing to Armando and then there’s another wobble and it stays on Charles. Charles stares up at Erik with wide, shocked blue eyes that get wider as Erik crawls across the circle towards Charles, as he rises up to his full height on his knees and then leans over to capture Charles’ endlessly frustratingly perfect mouth in a kiss.

Maybe, Erik thinks as Charles’ fingers dig into his arms, as Charles moans into his mouth, one day he’ll tell Charles that he was guiding the bottle with his powers all along.

 

***

 

**charles/erik, kids in the same hospital ward** (for **pearlo** )

The doctors say he won’t ever be able to walk again and Charles believes them, he does, but he thinks maybe if he just tries harder, if he just works harder in his physical therapy, if he just does what he’s supposed to do when he’s supposed to do it, if he just becomes the model patient, maybe things will work out. Maybe things will get better.

But no matter how hard he works, things never change, and the brightest light in his future continues to be the boy in the next bed who reads to him at night through his tears and tells him, over and over, he’s not alone.

 

***

 

**charles/erik, forced/arranged marriage** (for **pearlo** )

Erik doesn’t care about the particulars—this is a good marriage for his family and his betrothed’s fortune will get rid of Shaw once and for all. It’s politics, is all, and all parties understand that and the actual details are unimportant.

At least until he looks up from the marriage contract and catches his fiance’s amused look and brilliant blue eyes as he extends his hand and says, “My name’s Charles and I suppose I’m to be your husband,” with a wryness that makes Erik think that maybe he shouldn’t write off the details just yet.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, sunburnt on a beach.** (for **ang3lsh1** )

Normally, Charles lying naked on a bed is Erik’s idea of a perfect afternoon, but this is torture—running his hands over Charles’ heated skin, hearing quiet little moans and hisses, and not being able to do anything about it.

He gives in and presses a kiss to Charles’ shoulder and Charles whimpers in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Erik says, guilty, and goes back to gently applying aloe to Charles’ vicious sunburn.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, Patient!Charles and Doctor!Erik** (for **chaiselounger** )

Dr. Lehnsherr looks up from Charles’ chart with raised eyebrows and Charles suddenly feels acutely embarrassed and transparent.

“Well, Mr. Xavier, thank you for the follow-up, but for future reference, you don’t need to make a new appointment just to tell me your cold has cleared up,” he says, and Charles fights to keep from wincing. “However, if you feel such a need to update me—” He pulls a business card out of his pocket and hands it to Charles. “—you can always call my private line.”

 

***

 

**Charles and Erik, and I wonder what they would do if they were in the background during a Big Superhero Showdown. Like, if they had to stop for asparagus or something and then Dr. Doom and the FF rolled through.** (for **our-girl-friday** )

Charles moves to—to do something, to identify himself as a telepath, to try and figure out how to help, to volunteer his services to the Richards family—but before he can take more than a step forward, a chunk of the roof comes flying and someone else has grabbed him and pulled him underneath the produce case, holding him close and breathing against his neck as the rubble settles and people around them scream.

“Hold on,” the man says, keeping him down as Johnny Storm goes by in a flash of heat and light, “let the so-called heroes handle it.”

Any thoughts of assisting fly out of Charles mind—he’s suddenly perfectly happy to sit this one out.

 

***

 

**Erik/Charles, skinnydipping** (for **clarasteam** )

_Everyone else is asleep, I swear,_ Charles murmurs, and Erik shivers from a combination of the seductive whisper in his head, the cool night air on his bare skin, and the knowledge that if anyone finds them out here, they’ll be in huge trouble. Ahead of him, Charles’ pale skin is highlighted by the moonlight as he slips into the lake, equally naked and smiling as their bosses and charges sleep back at camp, none the wiser to their nocturnal activities.

Erik takes a deep breath, drops the t-shirt clutched in his hands, and follows Charles out into the water.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik marine biology (could be marine biologists, could be merpeople, could just be visiting an aquarium...)** (for **Cesare** )

It’s the third Saturday in a row that the tall fellow with the sour expression and the sunglasses has come out to watch the seal show, something that Charles may have only noticed because the sour expression melts into a half-smile when Charles has the seals doing tricks and the smile makes him more attractive than should really be allowed. He pulls himself together and runs the show, and when it gets to the audience participation part of the routine, he follows his gut and forgoes the children jumping up in down in front and points to the tall man in the shades, beckoning him forward, much to his surprise.

“I’m Charles,” he says once the man is standing next to him, smelling insanely good even over the constant odor of fish that follows Charles everywhere he goes.

“Erik,” the man says, and when he smiles, Charles has to smile too.

 

***

 

**Cherik, Jazz era AU!** (for **synekdokee** )

The club is for what his mother would call “undesirables”—blacks and queers and mutants, disreputable women, men in crisp suits who can get you anything you’re looking for if you have what they want, and loud, brilliant, _wonderful_ music. Charles never wants to leave, right up until Erik turns to him and murmurs right against his ear, “I don’t live far from here.” Then, Charles is happy to leave with haste.

 

***

 

**So! Cherik, Charles saves Erik from the lab.** (for **mir-rcha** )

Charles’ team has opened the last of the cages ( _cages_ , they’re keeping mutants—people—in cages) when there’s a jolt and then a spike of pain that radiates out of his mind and shakes him to his core. It’s someone sending out a soundless cry of rage and despair so deep that Charles has to find it, has to turn and run even as Raven calls for him to come back, has to dart down the halls until he zeros in on the lab tucked in the back corner, a room they haven’t reached yet, a room where a man has been tied with ropes onto a table of glass.

_Calm your mind,_ Charles says as he races forward to untie him, _Just calm yourself—I’m here to get you out. You’re not alone any longer._


	7. zip me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik helps Charles prepare to meet his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **pearlo** in a tumblr meme. Same universe as [the part you're born to play](http://archiveofourown.org/works/740810) and various related ficlets.

“Try this,” Erik says, and he throws a shirt at Charles, the dark blue pinstriped one, Charles’ favorite. Charles holds it out dubiously, still clutching the crisp white shirt he had chosen himself.

“I wear this all the time,” Charles says. It’s worn around the edges, soft and a little frayed. It’s not what Charles would choose for his round two meeting with Mrs. Lehnsherr—he knows he should look presentable and clean and nice, like a good boyfriend.

“I know,” Erik says. He steps forward, over the pile of rejected clothes on the floor, and takes the white shirt from Charles. He drops it onto the bed and then slowly starts unbuttoning the black shirt Charles is wearing. “You look good in it. I’ve said it before. I’ve made it very clear.” He looks up at Charles and smirks and Charles feels himself blush. Every so often, Erik throws him off his game entirely by saying something or doing something or…wanting Charles so baldly.

“It’s old,” Charles says, as Erik finishes the buttons and peels the shirt off of Charles. It’s strange, Erik taking such care to undress him, stranger still when he takes the blue shirt from Charles’ hands and slips it over Charles’ arms. He’s used to a little more intent, a little more haste, a little more heat in Erik’s eyes. A different kind of heat, maybe, because there’s definitely warmth in his expression, in the careful way he buttons up the shirt.

“You’re comfortable in it,” Erik says. “You’re yourself in it. That’s what my mom wants to see.” He finishes with the buttons and flicks away some lint from Charles’ shoulder, then turns him towards the mirror. He stands behind Charles, with his hands on his shoulders. “See?”

He does look like himself. More like himself than he normally does. Comfortable and soft the way he is around Erik, the way he is when they’re tired and alone.

“Okay,” Charles says. “Let’s go with this.”

“Good,” Erik says, and leans down to kiss Charles’ temple. And his ear. And his throat. And—

“You just dressed me,” Charles murmurs with no real complaint.

“I can dress you again later,” Erik replies.


	8. quiet me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles calms Erik down in the face of playground bullies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **shaliara** for a tumblr meme. Grade school AU.

Charles finds Erik on the other side of the hill, down below the swings and jungle gym, down by the sandbox that no one uses any longer. There’s no one else around—no one comes down here, not since all the new things were added to the playground, but Erik’s always liked it better down here and Charles likes what Erik likes because Charles likes it when Erik smiles.

He’s quiet as he walks down the hill and slowly crosses to where Erik is hunched over, sitting on one of the tires that lines the sandbox. Erik doesn’t look up, not even when Charles sits down next to him.

“Sebastian’s a jerk,” Charles says quietly, but that’s not really true, not like the way Cain is a jerk, at least. Sebastian is worse—he’s all nice and funny and spends time with you and acts like he’s your friend, and then he gets mean. Lots of people like him anyway, though, and lots of people don’t realize just how mean he can be, and lots of people have no problem turning on whomever Sebastian tells them to turn on.

Charles tries not to get in the middle of Sebastian’s fights—he’s already littler than everyone else in their class and if he’s learned one thing since Cain and Kurt came to live with them, it’s that if you stay quiet, you don’t get hit. He can’t stay out of this one, though, because it’s _Erik_ and because Erik is probably the only person in the world who loves Charles just for being Charles. Raven, maybe, but she’s just a baby—she loves everyone.

“I’m fine,” Erik says. He doesn’t sound fine. His voice is all wobbly and Charles thinks he might be crying.

“Those kids are just doing it because Sebastian says,” Charles continues. “No one cares how much money your mom has.” Charles knows that’s not entirely true, even as he says it. He knows that the main reason people don’t pick on him is because Luther drops him off at school in the morning in a nice car and calls him Mr. Charles, because everything Charles has is brand new and shiny, because the library is named after Charles’ grandfather. But Erik is kind and smart and great at sports and tall and _cool_ in a way that everyone envies quietly. Normally, they let him be. Why did Sebastian have to ruin everything?

“Shut up,” Erik says, and he hunches over further. Charles puts a hand on Erik’s back, and when Erik doesn’t shrug him away, he curls the arm around Erik’s shoulders.

“Sebastian wears that dumb hat,” Charles says, grasping at anything. “And he makes all those other kids do stuff for him. He’s just…dumb. He’s dumb, Erik.” He squeezes Erik more tightly and brings his other arm up so it’s a real hug. Erik is definitely crying and Charles hates it. His stomach hurts just thinking about how upset Erik must be in order to give in and cry. “You’re so much better than he is. You’re smarter! And you’re really good at kickball!”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Erik says again, but he leans his head against Charles’. He slides his hand down until it’s tucked around Charles’ waist. “Do you really think I’m better at kickball than Sebastian?”

“Of course!” Charles says. “You’re the best, you know that. He’s just a dumb jerk, Erik. By the time we have gym, everyone will want to be on your team, just like usual.”

Erik doesn’t say anything in response, but he lets out a tiny breath, just a small one, and he seems to relax. He doesn’t go anywhere, which Charles likes. He likes being close to Erik.

They stay that way all through recess, and when they go back into school, Erik’s got his head held high and he’s smiling again.


	9. call me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira is starting to regret agreeing to babysit Charles the night before his wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **queenhaggard** in a tumblr meme. Modern, non-powered AU.

“I should call Erik,” Charles says, digging into his pockets. He frowns when he can’t find his phone. “I should…Erik would love this.”

Moira holds up his phone, wiggles it slightly.

“No,” she says. “I have your phone. You’re not calling your fiance. That’s the whole point of a bachelor party, honey.”

Charles pouts. Epically. It’s almost cute. Not cute enough to make Moira give him the phone, but still, she can almost see what Erik sees in him.

“But I want to talk to him,” Charles says. “He likes…music…and drinking. And he should be here. I wish he was here. I should call him.” He makes a grab for the phone, which Moira easily dodges. “Moiraaaa!”

“You cannot call him,” Moira says. “Finish your drink. We’ll go back to the room and I’ll let you tell me for the millionth time how great Erik is and how kind and how funny and how great his cock is and how much you love him.”

Charles sighs and rests his head on the table.

“I love him so much,” Charles says dreamily. There’s a moment’s pause and Moira waits for it. Then, “His cock is amazing, Moira.”

“All right,” Moira says. “Stand up. We’re walking your drunk ass back to the room. This time tomorrow you’ll be married to funny, creepy Erik and his amazing cock. Let’s go.”

She has to pull Charles up bodily, and in the ensuing scuffle, he manages to get his phone, staring down at it happily as he leans against Moira and lets her drag him out of the hotel bar and towards the elevators. He somehow manages to operate the phone, but by that point, Moira’s past caring about who Charles does or doesn’t talk to.

“Hello? Hello? Erik!”

He gestures expansively and almost smacks Moira in the face. She sighs and hits the elevator button.

“I love you so much,” Charles says. “Erik—no, I love you. You’re—no, _you’re_ perfect and I love you. I’m going to marry you, you’re going to be my husband. Erik—”

It keeps going, a constant stream of chattering and ‘I love you’ and giggles all the way up to the fourteenth floor and all the way to the room. It continues until Moira shoves him onto the bed and he curls up on his side, phone still clutched to his ear, even as his eyelids start to droop.

“You’re wonderful,” Charles murmurs. “I love you so much.”

He’s out like a light, then, eyes closed, breathing even, and Moira has to shake her head and retrieve the phone. It’s cute, really, and as much as she hates playing babysitter, she’s glad he’s so happy and thrilled that he and Erik are finally getting hitched. She can’t help but brush his hair off his forehead and smile a bit soppily.

She sets the alarm for six am before she turns his phone off, though. She’s not a saint.


	10. enamor me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik tries his hand at wooing Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **professor** in a tumblr meme. Modern, non-powered AU.

Charles takes his reading glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s exhausted, but the coffeeshop is closing in half an hour and he wants these papers graded by the time he goes home. He’s tired of reading, though—his students’ terrible handwriting is curling and twisting in front of his eyes. He really needs a break.

He looks up to inspect the bake case—maybe the sugar will give him an extra boost as well—but someone steps into his line of sight.

Erik. Erik steps into his line of sight.

“Erik!” Charles says, grinning. A game of chess would be an even better distraction than a snack, and he gestures to the empty chair at his table. Erik doesn’t move, though, and upon closer inspection, he seems nervous. It’s out of character—Erik is incredibly self-assured in everything he does. He’s never seen Erik so much as twitch before. “How are you?”

“I’m—” Erik frowns around a flicker of something like panic. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. He shifts and rolls his shoulders. “I’m fine?”

“Good?” Charles asks with the same lingering question. He smiles, but even that’s a question, and he waits for Erik to elaborate.

Erik clears his throat and sticks his hand into his pocket. He pulls out something the size of a mass market paperback, wrapped in simple blue paper, and then shoves it at Charles and looks away.

“That’s for you,” he says unnecessarily.

Charles pulls open the paper without looking away from Erik, who isn’t actively running away at top speed although it seems he’s considering it. Charles glances down at the present and his smile spreads when he sees that it’s a German to English dictionary.

“Thank you!” Charles says. “You didn’t—”

“I…I know you want to learn,” Erik says, still not looking at him. “And I could teach you. We could have lessons. Here. Or at your place. Or here.”

Charles has been trying to get Erik into his apartment for _weeks_. He doesn’t even care about German, he only said it to make conversation, to keep Erik at the shop long after he finished the coffee he came in for. He can’t help his grin or the giddy rush at the thought of bringing Erik home with him, even if it’s just for German lessons that will probably bore him to tears.

“I’d like that very much, Erik,” Charles says, and Erik finally turns back to look at him. He smiles tentatively and sits in the chair across from Erik. “Are you free tonight?”

Erik’s back to his usually unflappable self. The flicker of surprise would probably be invisible to anyone else.

“Yes,” Erik says.

“Would you like to get dinner first?” Charles says. He leans forward on the table. “I work best on a full stomach. And maybe after a drink or two?”

Erik stares at him for a moment, blank and thoughtful and considering. When he smiles, it shows all his teeth. Charles loves that smile.

“It would be irresponsible for me to try and teach you in adverse learning conditions,” Erik says. “How do you feel about Thai?”

“I love Thai,” Charles says. He can grade later—tomorrow, if he has to. Next week. Next term. For the moment, he’s focusing on learning German. Well. Learning one German in particular. “Lead the way.”


	11. nurse me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is finally home from filming abroad, but the flu has him bedridden, and not in the fun way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **inthunderlightningorinrain** in a tumblr meme. Part of the [Work/Life Balance](http://archiveofourown.org/series/39875) verse.

Erik’s mother taught him how to make tea when he was a child—how long to steep it, how much milk and sugar to add. Erik never took to it, but his mother liked a cup with her breakfast first thing in the morning and made it every day while Erik ate before school.

He calls on those memories as he stands at the kitchen counter brewing tea for Charles. He waits patiently for the tea to steep and then adds some honey, stirring carefully until it’s dissolved. He takes the mug carefully up the stairs and pushes open the bedroom door.

Charles is curled under the blankets still, unmoving and wheezing. It would be cute if he couldn’t tell even from here how awful Charles feels.

He crosses the room and puts the tea on the nightstand, then sits on the edge of the bed and rubs Charles’ back through the blankets. Charles makes a quiet noise and stirs just enough to poke his head out from under the covers. He’s pale and bleary eyed and pathetic and Erik has to lean over to kiss his sweaty forehead.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Erik asks. Charles’ forehead wrinkles and Erik smoothes it out with his thumb.

“Everything hurts,” Charles croaks, and Erik kisses his forehead again, this time noting his temperature is still high.

“I’m sorry,” Erik says. “I made you tea. I can get you some toast or—”

Charles makes a distressed noise and shakes his head, then winces. Erik winces too. Charles has been away filming for a month. Yesterday was the first time Erik had seen him in person in weeks and it was just long enough to help him into bed and pour NyQuil down his throat. He was taking the day off from work. It was supposed to be their reunion. He’s mostly spent it playing nursemaid and watching _Law and Order_ reruns in the living room.

Still, a day doing nothing while Charles is sick in bed is still embarrassingly better than a day spent anywhere else without Charles.

“I don’t need anything,” Charles murmurs. “I’m just happy to be home.”

And Erik knows that Charles feels the same way—of course he does, Charles tells him every day, Charles is effusive in his praise, his affection, how vital Erik is to his happiness. But it’s always nice to be reminded that his handsome, charming, well-loved movie star husband spends his time in exotic locales wishing he was back in their bedroom.

“I’m happy you’re home too,” Erik says, and gives in, lying down on the bed behind Charles and sliding under the blankets to wrap his arms around him.

“Even though I’m gross?” Charles asks, burying his head in Erik’s shoulder.

“Even though you’re gross,” Erik says. “When else do I get to make you tea?”

“Tea can wait,” Charles says. “Don’t go anywhere.”

As if Erik would ever go anywhere. As if Erik is the one jetsetting around the globe spending his time with people who are infinitely more exciting than the ones back home.

Still, he says, “I won’t, I won’t,” as he kisses the top of Charles’ head and holds him close through another coughing fit. As if there is anywhere Erik would rather be.


	12. haunt me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles senses Erik nearly as soon as he walks into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **trobador** in a tumblr meme.

Charles senses Erik nearly as soon as he walks into the room. He always does. He always has. He pretends, for Erik's sake, that it's more difficult than that, that Erik can lose himself in the crowd on the street or in the patrons at the museum, the students at the college, even within Charles' own pupils on the grounds. He pretends that Erik doesn't shine like a beacon, immediately grabbing his attention the moment he's within range, because he knows that any hint of that and Erik will stop taking off the helmet. He only allows himself these foolish indulgences because he thinks he passes undetected, and if he learns otherwise, Charles may never feel the exquisite fire of Erik's mind ever again.

But yes, he senses Erik at the party. It's high society, full of socialites, CEOs, and quite a few politicians. That's why Charles is here. He imagines that's why Erik is here, too. The first of what Charles predicts will be decades of mutant-related bills is coming up for a vote. Right now, congress is deadlocked. Three of the five undecided votes are in this room, and Charles plans to charm the pants off of them.

That, and block any sudden moves that Erik might try to make.

It's quite easy to split his attention--he's gotten used to it, gotten good at it. He focuses only a fraction of his energy on the party, on smiling and speaking for his cause and complimenting the wives of senators. A portion of his concentration is still lingering fifty miles north, on the docile minds of his students, already drifting off to bed. The rest is, of course, hovering just beyond Erik's perception. It's easier to juggling those three points of focus than it is to avoid glancing towards the piano in the corner where Erik is lurking, blending into his surroundings and staying out of the way. Waiting, Charles assumes, and he wants to know what Erik has planned, longs to steal into his mind and find out, but some things are still sacrosanct. Some part of Charles can't break this last trust, even though Erik doesn't deserve it.

He waits. It's all he can do. Wait and be ready to step in when things go south.

He waits all night. He smiles and charms his way through the room, changing at least one mind and making others pause to consider his side. He doesn't drink more than two glasses of Scotch, mostly because he's afraid that his self-control will waver and he'll seek out Erik, still lurking in the corner behind the piano. He waits until the guests start to trickle out, and as the party shuts down, he's still waiting.

He follows the blaze of Erik's mind out to the balcony. He can't help himself anymore. The waiting is killing him and if something is going to happen, he'd like to know.

Erik is smoking, leaning against the rail. It's almost unbearably lovely, his face in the moonlight, the way he purses his lips and holds a cigarette. He doesn't turn to look at Charles, though Charles knows he must have felt the metal of the wheelchair from the moment Charles turned in this direction.

"What is it?" Charles asks. "What are you planning? Why are you here?"

Erik turns slowly. His expression doesn't change.

"You're looking good as ever," Erik says, and Charles bristles. He looks tired and pale and he's losing his hair and he's not here for Erik to patronize him, to _mock_ him.

"I'm serious, Erik," Charles says. "Don't make me look. I don't want to, but I will if I have to."

Erik turns fully, leaning his back against the railing, now, and it's desperately unfair how perfect he still looks. There are lines on his face, yes, and grey at his temples, but it suits him. It makes him look more centered, more dignified.

To Charles he says, "Look, if you must. I trust you won't go beyond my intentions here tonight." He taps his own forehead, an invitation perhaps even more clear than the words he's spoken out loud. A part of Charles wants to resist--a childish, angry part of him, the part that hates Erik more than it misses him. It's the smallest part of Charles, though, for better or for worse, and he holds Erik's eyes as he dives into his mind.

Charles resists whimpering. Barely. Because, oh, he's missed this. The glimpses he's gotten, the impressions from hovering just on the outside, from keeping tabs, are nothing compared to wrapping himself up in the flow of Erik's thoughts. No two minds are alike, and Erik's is the greatest Charles has ever come across. He doubts he'll ever find anyone else who can compare.

He's so overwhelmed that it takes him a moment to get his bearings, to remember why he's here, to tune out the white noise of Erik's thoughts and focus on here and now, on tonight. When he does, he's sure his surprise must show on his face, though Erik's expression still hasn't changed.

Erik will never stop hurting him, it seems, not when even his concern is exquisitely painful.

"They wouldn't have hurt me," Charles says. His voice isn't as steady as he'd like. "Not somewhere public. Not like this."

"You're too trusting," Erik says. "There are a million ways they could take you, hurt you between here and your estate. There are a million ways they could cause you harm."

"I would hear them coming," Charles says.

"I don't trust you to take care of yourself," Erik says.

"So you take it upon yourself," Charles says, and Erik nods. No grandstanding or spectacle, no threats or promises or excuses. He nods and raises his cigarette to his lips again.

"You really do look lovely," Erik says on the exhale.

Charles shakes his head. He wonders if the ringing in his ears is love or madness.

"I don't know what to do with you," Charles says. "I'm very much at a loss. It's constant, you understand. Nothing in my life has prepared me for you."

Erik smiles. It's not particularly happy. He stubs his cigarette out on the railing and flicks it into the bushes. Charles refrains from commenting on the action.

"For tonight, let me take you home," Erik says. _Let me make sure you're safe,_ he doesn't say, though Charles reads it in the air between them, in Erik's eyes, and radiating from his mind.

This doesn't make things any less complicated, but Charles nods his assent. He closes his eyes and lets Erik guide his chair back towards the elevators, the brilliant beacon of Erik's mind steadily following him, warm and familiar in its complexity.


	13. sleepy charles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly discovered telepathy does not make for a peaceful night's sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **aesc** as ~~bribery~~ encouragement to finish some household chores. She requested: _How about something short and sweet... Charles had a restless night (maybe because of his telepathy?) and decides a lazy Sunday is in order and wants to convince Erik this is a thing that should happen._ I went slightly off prompt, but it's close? :D? :D? :D?
> 
> Takes place somewhere in the near future of [the mystery which binds me still](http://archiveofourown.org/works/551115).

Charles opens his eyes and then immediately regrets that decision.

The light hurts. Having his eyes open hurts. He's so tired everything hurts and his head is pounding worst of all. The edges of his shields feel sharp, even though he imagines them as thin and concave, collapsing against the pressure of all of Washington DC. He tries to raise his head, but his shaking arms can't hold him up, so he collapses back into the pillows.

"You're awake," Erik says, and Charles squints his eyes open again. He belatedly realizes he's alone in bed, that the sheets are cold. He blinks and focuses past the fuzzy swimming of waking too early on too little sleep and zeroes in on Erik. He's clothed and sitting at the little table by the windows. He's drinking coffee. He looks...Charles closes his eyes and clings to Erik's mind instead, wraps himself up in it like he has been for the past few weeks, using Erik's familiar thoughts as a crutch. The pressure dissipates and Charles sighs. 

Erik is distantly amused, slightly impatient, all of it infused with the fondness that Charles has become accustomed to recently. Charles forces his eyes open again.

"Hi," he says. Erik smiles at him.

"Moira and Nick went downstairs for breakfast," he says. "We're waiting on you."

Breakfast. Right. They're supposed to go out and meet Moira's friend, Agent Platt, get close enough for Charles to read his mind and see if he'll be as amenable to helping them as Moira thinks he might be. He said he was busy until after lunch.

"What time is it?" Charles asks, and he shivers as he feels Erik's awareness wrap around the metal of his watch. He doesn't even look down.

"It's nearly ten," Erik says. "You've been passed out for twelve hours."

Charles falls back into the pillows again and closes his eyes. 

"That implies I spent those hours sleeping," he says and rubs wearily at his temples. Now that the exterior noise is blocked out, Charles can focus on how exhausted he is. 

He hears Erik get up and cross the room, feels him get closer with a sudden blossom of concern and frustration. The concern is aimed at Charles, but the frustration is turned inward. He sits on the edge of the bed and touches Charles' forehead very gently. 

"You couldn't sleep?" Erik asks.

"I...it's complicated," Charles murmurs. He turns his face into Erik's caress. "I was asleep at first but as soon as I lost consciousness, I lost the ability to hold up my shields or to...anchor myself." 

The bed dips and Erik's hand comes to rest on his shoulder and slides down the side of Charles' body, turning him from his back to his side. Charles opens his eyes. Erik is sharing his pillow, his face inches from Charles' own.

"This is the first time we've been outside of the house overnight," Erik says.

"I'll work on it," Charles says. "I've worked on the rest."

"You've used me," Erik says. Charles nods, and there's a hot, creeping embarrassment. "Hey," Erik says, "no. I...like it more than I should. It's been--I've spent a long time remembering what it was like to have you in there. And missing it. And I'm glad to have it back. But maybe I should have been more focused on you than me."

"Mm, no," Charles says as Erik brushes his hair back from his forehead. "It's good. It's helpful. I'm getting stronger."

"Not at night," Erik says.

"Not yet," Charles says. He reaches up and gently grasps Erik's wrist, pulling Erik's hand down so he can take it in his own. "Give me time." He makes Erik meet his eye and holds his gaze. "Maybe starting right now?" he says eventually.

Erik laughs, ducking his head. Charles can count his eyelashes. He thinks a hundred sappy things, things that Erik can probably hear clear as day through the psychic tether. He knows he should be embarrassed for being so lovestruck, still, so doting, like he's in the throes of first love. Except...well, he rather is, in a way. And he still has a lot of years to make up for.

"We're meeting Platt at three," Erik says. "I'll text Moira and tell her we'll meet them there." He raises his hand and Charles delights again, turns to way the phone on the table rise up and then come towards them. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

"I can try," Charles says. And when Erik curls up around him and pushes Charles' shirt up to lay a hand on his bare hip--skin to skin, their connection blazes bright--Charles thinks he might even succeed.


	14. three line aus redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More three-line ficlets based on Tumblr prompts. XMFC, Welcome to Night Vale, and X-Treme X-Men.

**Charles/Erik, hypnotherapy** (for **trobador** )

"Close your eyes," the therapist says, wrapping his warm, square fingers around Erik’s wrist, "and listen to my voice and we’ll see if we can’t make your next flight a little more pleasant. To start with, we just need you to relax, to slow your heartrate."

Erik smiles somewhat ruefully—between the tone of Dr. Xavier’s voice, the feeling of his fingers tight on Erik’s wrist, and the memory of the color of his eyes, Erik thinks keeping his heart from racing may not be as easy as he’d like.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, high school lab partners** (for **Cesare** )

Charles kneels down to observe the beaker as he raises his hand to drip their solution slowly into the inert contents. Erik, never content to trust someone else to do the work, kneels behind him, close enough that his breath warms the back of Charles’ neck.

For the first time in eleven years of conducting science experiments, Charles’ hands shake.

 

***

 

**charles/erik, high school gsa** (for **pearlo** )

The last thing that Erik expects when he shows up at Mr. Platt’s room for the meeting is to see Charles Xavier—super rich, super smart, super helpful, super nice, super picture perfect poster boy for White Male Upper Class High School Student—sitting in the first row.

(Xavier, with his blue eyes and his unruly-sometimes-curly hair and his uncomfortably red mouth is also the poster boy for every wet dream Erik has had in the two months since the school year started and Xavier sat down in front of him in physics.)

_He could just be here as an ally,_ Erik reminds himself sharply as he wipes his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans, but that doesn’t stop the smallest spark of hope from warming his chest.

 

***

 

**Erik/Charles, ghost hunters AU** (for **twentyghosts** )

"This is nonsense," Charles keeps repeating, huddled as he is under blankets, teeth chattering, camcorder abandoned on the bed next to him, "it’s nonsense."

Erik rubs his arms through the wool and tries to block out the sounds of what could be footsteps above them, when they know Darwin and Raven are in the basement and Sean and Alex are—fuck, they just need to stay alive until morning, just a few more hours now.

"It’s going to be okay," he tells Charles, but the unearthly scream from above them tells a different story.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, superheroes!** (for **bpobox** )

Any moment now, Erik is going to tell the mysterious Professor X that he doesn’t need to be carried, that he can actually fly, that he’s not an innocent bystander at all, that he’s more than the quiet, surly engineer Erik Lehnsherr, that he’s the hero Magneto and he’s more than capable of taking care of himself and fending off the villains on his own.

Professor X holds him more tightly as he flies through the crowd to get Erik to safety and Erik can’t help but notice that he smells amazingly good.

Any moment now Erik will reveal his secret identity—really, any moment now.

 

***

 

**charles/erik, meeting as members of a wedding party** (for **pearlo** )

"Listen, we need to get on with things," Moira’s mother says, "so why don’t Charles and…Nick’s friend just stand in for them for a few moments?"

Charles has no problem stepping up to the alter, even as the amassed rehearsal crowd titters at the idea of two men standing together at the front of Catholic church—Nick’s old friend from the police force is easy on the eyes, scathingly witty, and a mutant to boot, which is just how Charles likes them.

Erik flips up his sunglasses and gives Charles an obvious once over before stepping up next to him at the alter, and Charles can already tell this is going to be the best wedding he’s ever attended.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik; one's a tailor, one's getting a new wardrobe!** (for **allthatihavemet** )

Charles really thinks it’s overkill, having his whole wardrobe tailored as he prepares to use his new degree to step into a VP position at Xavier BioTech, but his mother insists and if there’s one thing he’s learned growing up in the minefield of the estate on Graymalkin Lane, it’s that he needs to choose his battles.

And, well, it’s difficult to remember what his protests were to begin with when the tailor steps into the room, tall and spare and sharp and, of course, filling out his own suit so beautifully that Charles can’t help but want to take it off with his teeth.

Suddenly a new wardrobe is far from overkill and he wonders, distantly, just how many new pairs of trousers he can afford to buy. A lot, he’d wager.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, hoarding** (for **chiasticbees** )

Charles is in jeans, which is the first surprising thing and so surprising that it takes Erik a moment to remember that it was Scott who was supposed to be here today, not Charles. Charles is endlessly compassionate and never hesitates to dive in with a participant and start weeding through junk, but he’s always immaculately dressed while doing it and Erik honestly can’t picture Charles running through the halls trying to catch rats along with Erik and the guys.

Until Charles leans over to put something in his bag and, suddenly significantly warmer than he was the moment before, Erik’s too busy picturing a multitude of other things to worry about how Charles is going to handle the rats.

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, teenaged necking at the back on the cinema** (for **ang3lsh1** )

Charles thinks it officially changes from kissing to making out when Erik’s fingers brush once, tentatively, at the hem of his shirt before slipping his hand beneath it entirely and spreading his hand out against the curve of Charles’ lower back, finger tips slipping below Charles’ waistband. It’s when Charles’ heart starts to beat even faster, torn between hyperawareness of every single person in the dark theatre and the desire to block it all out and give into the sensations of Erik’s hands on his skin and Erik’s mouth under his own.

He fumbles with one hand to push the arm rest up and out of the way and then slides closer, hoping desperately that they’re not caught, but secure in the fact that, even if they are, this is definitely worth it.

 

***

 

**Charles doting on Erik** (for **mir-rcha** )

"I made you soup and I brought you some more blankets and I stopped by the library to pick up your holds," Charles says, arranging all the items just so around the bed, and then leaning over to press his lips to Erik’s forehead to measure his fever, despite Erik’s impressive scowl.

"I don’t need you to coddle me," Erik snaps, but four impressive sneezes and a coughing fit follow immediately, and he’s much less menacing when he’s whimpering into the pillow.

"I know you don’t, my darling," Charles says, "but I enjoy doing it anyway," and this time, the lips against Erik’s forehead place a tender kiss in their wake.

 

***

 

**Charles and Herc drinking and bitching about their boyfriends?** (for **professorofeljay** )

"I know it’s all posturing and pageantry but it means something to me and I’ve told him that and he still refuses to come!" Charles says, rubbing the bridge of his nose and hoping that he sounds more frustrated that disappointed. Hercules knows him too well, though; he lays a hand between Charles’ shoulder blades and rubs soothingly as Charles tries to choke back the lump in his throat at the idea of Erik not being present at the Midsummer Festival.

"What you need," Hercules says, "is another drink. And while I’m pouring, I’ll tell you all about my week trying to get James to sit for a portrait, and by the end, you’ll have forgotten all of your troubles." Charles smiles and accepts a fresh glass and hope Hercules is right.

 

***

 

**Young Charles Xavier is a pop star who makes the cover of teen magazines; young Erik Lehnsherr is a Serious Singer-Songwriter who makes the cover of Rolling Stone and is totally irked and offended when he's invited to collaborate on a song for Charles's next album, but since it's guaranteed to be a smash, Erik's agent presses him to at least go talk to the guy...** (for **Cesare** )

Erik expects one of those McMansions he sees on E!: five game rooms, girls lounging at the pool, hangers-on loitering on the grounds, extravagant and childish decorations everywhere. He’s surprised, then, when he’s led into the (huge, towering, castle-like) house and through sedately decorated halls to a library filled with old books and worn leather sofas, the sort of thing that wouldn’t be out of place in a museum. Similarly, Xavier is sitting in the corner in old jeans and a cardigan that’s far too big as he plucks out a song on an acoustic guitar, staring into the middle distance and seemingly not registering Erik’s presence at all.

Erik clears his throat and grudgingly adjusts his assumptions about Charles Xavier as he says, “My name is Erik Lehnsherr,” and then adds, much to his own surprise, “And I guess we’re going to be working together.”

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, ice cream truck** (for **professorofeljay** )

Charles waits until the very end of the line because last time he was first and he got the last strawberry shortcake and the little girl two people behind him really, really wanted one and she was sad and her sad made him sad and he couldn’t even enjoy his ice cream. He waits til the very end of the line, now, and watches all the other kids get their ice cream before finally, breathlessly ordering his own.

The truck is just pulling away to its next stop when he hears the other boy running towards him, thinking, _No no no, why did you lose that quarter, why did it take you so long to find it, you’re better than that, you should have been able to pull it right back, you’ve missed it, it’s gone—_ and Charles blurts out, “Do you want to share my Screwball?”

The other boy’s face lights up and Charles can’t help but smile back, because he thinks he’s just found his new best friend.

 

***

 

**AU where they're pen pals as kids** (for **pearlo** )

When Erik was a kid, he asked his mom to point out Charles’ town on the map so many times that she gave it to him eventually, tacked it up in his room and put an extra tack right on top of the town where Charles’ school is, all the way across the ocean in England.

Five years later, Erik still looks at the tack sometimes at night and wonders what Charles is doing, how school is going, if Charles is happier than he seemed in his last letter, if his letters make Charles half as happy as Charles’ letters make Erik. Then, right before he goes to sleep, he crosses another day off on his calendar, counting down the days until Charles leaves England for college, for America, for _New York_ , for a university in Manhattan that’s barely more than ten miles from where Erik is lying in bed and wondering if seeing Charles in person will make the hot fluttering in Erik’s stomach when he thinks about Charles better or worse.

 

***

 

**Erik/Charles, baking something** (for **luninosity** )

The hamantaschen were supposed to be a surprise—he was going to have the dough and filling ready when Erik got home from work and they were going to put the cookies together as a family, but that was before Lorna started crying and Raven decided she immediately needed to go to Alex’s and a concerned parent called his personal cellphone five times and before he knows it, when the girls are lying down for a nap, Charles finds himself closing his eyes as well.

When he wakes up, it’s because Erik is home and sitting on the couch next to him, holding a plate of finished cookies on his lap.

"You’re insane," he says, but he kisses Charles’ forehead and offers him an apricot-filled cookie, golden brown at the corners and warm to the touch.

 

***

 

**A letter from Erik to Charles from Barflys** (for **trobador** )

Charles-

Thanks for making the trip out to Brooklyn last night. I imagine it’s a pain, especially on a week night.

You’re still absolutely wrong about Lancelot’s motivations. He’s not inherently good, it’s his love for Arthur that makes him want to do good. Every single thing you said was too idealistic and too naive to be used to describe a man who’s been put together the way Lancelot has. I can’t believe we’re even talking about the same book. It’s possible the music in between sets was so loud that I misheard you, and I’m going to cling to that possibility to retain any shred of respect that I have for your literary tastes. You’re a fool for a hundred different reasons that I don’t have time to outline right now.

What are you doing Friday? (Tomorrow’s no good for me—Moira has another date with the hot bartender and somehow I got roped into pre-gaming with her.) I’ll come to Manhattan this time.

I can bring an overnight bag if you want.

-Erik

 

***

 

**charles/erik, sleepover** (for **pearlo** )

The first time Charles invites Erik to sleepover, his heart beats faster in his chest and his palms sweat, but before he can stutter a reply, Charles breathlessly begins to list all the other boys who will be joining them for the party.

Erik’s heart sinks, but he forces a smile and goes to the party anyway.

(The next time Charles invites Erik for a sleepover, Erik holds his breath, but Charles doesn’t elaborate and when Erik arrives, the playroom is dark and Charles’ huge bed is made up for two and Erik’s heart starts beating fast all over again.)

 

***

 

**charles/erik, first grandkid** (for **pearlo** )

There’s a general assumption among their casual acquaintances that Charles is the marshmallow, the pushover, the soft touch with the children. But Charles taught for years even before they had children of then own and family has always been precious to Erik on a level that’s hard to explain to anyone who doesn’t know his history.

So it’s Erik who cries, Erik whose vision is blurred with fat, hot tears the moment his granddaughter is placed into his arms for the first time, Erik who has to press his face into Charles’ shoulder as Charles brushes the soft skin of her cheek and says, “Welcome to the world, Luna.”

 

***

 

**Charles/Erik, first meeting** (for **our-girl-friday** )

Charles arrives twenty minutes early for the meeting—he doesn’t mean to, but the subway can be a nightmare and he’s not sure how to get into the building and what if there’s a line at the security desk?—and, apparently, right in the middle of lunch.

He stands outside the glass doors to the office, staring at the empty reception desk, shifting from foot to foot and swinging his briefcase until a gentleman in a grey suit with sharp, gorgeous features, stops on the other side of the door and stares at him.

Charles stares back; he raises his hand in a wave.

The man finally pulls a keycard from where it hangs on his hip, waves it in front of the security box, and Charles hears the mechanical click of the lock that means he can push the door open. He opens his mouth to thank the man, but the man gives him a quick once over—lingering and more in-depth than Charles is used to getting from business associates—and then disappears down the hallway.

Charles sighs and takes a seat in the visitors’ area, waiting for the receptionist to return so he can check in for his meeting with the mysterious Mr. Lehnsherr.

 

***

 

**Married ghosthunters, Charles/Erik** (for **our-girl-friday** )

Erik loves what they do—he gets an intense thrill out of it that Charles finds rather disturbing and most of their network finds unholy. What they don’t understand is that it’s a purpose—he may not believe in god, but his own personal pantheon of world and life and self needs a driving force, and after years of drifting without a home or a life or any ambition to go on, having a goal, a direction, a _reason_ to exist…it means the world.

Or, almost the world. Because while Erik loves what they do— _loves_ it, thrives on it, blossoms in it—he doesn’t love it as much as he loves Charles, and this moment, the moment just before the peak of a fact-finding case, the moment when Charles says, “You check the attic, I’ll check the basement” and turns his back on Erik…well, he can’t help but question if he’s doing the right thing after all, if the joy he feels in doing his job is worth the chance that one day, Charles might go down to the basement and not come back up.

 

***

 

**Charles and Erik meet at Raven's college graduation party** (for **pearlo** )

Charles is mostly here because he knows Sharon and Kurt won’t be—they have better things to do than attend their daughter’s college graduation, even if they’re paying for the party, and Charles can’t stand the idea of Raven disappointed over them yet again. He goes with a smile on his face, even though all of the other attendees are Raven’s friends—twenty-two to his thirty and pop-culturally savvy and beautiful and exuberant and making him feel like an old man.

He’s ready to sneak out, having done his part and doted on Raven and started a toast and said hello to the familiar faces, when he catches sight of a stranger that makes him look twice—tall, lean, beautiful, at least as old as Charles, and…well, staring right back at him.

Well, maybe he can stay for one more drink...

 

***

 

**Teenage Erik crawls into Charles' window at night whenever he gets into fights with his foster parents** (for **pearlo** )

Charles wakes when the bed dips down next to him as Erik settles in, pulling the blankets up over his shoulder and sliding as close to Charles as he dare get. (When they were younger, they would hold each other in sleep, but the long, aching years between the onset of puberty and the first time Charles kissed Erik chased them to opposite sides of the bed, and they still leave a few inches between them on the off-chance that Raven comes in before they wake.)

"Go back to sleep," Erik says, but Charles rolls over to catalogue Erik’s injuries, to look at him in this moment of vulnerability, to remind himself that he’s not the only one who feels broken and alone and run down by the world—thought he almost wishes he hadn’t when he sees Erik’s black eye and split lip.

"One day," he says, because one day they’ll do it, they’ll leave, they’ll leave all of this behind, they’ll run as far as they can, but Erik just takes his hand and squeezes his fingers and whispers, "Go back to sleep."

 

***

 

**Carlos/Cecil perhaps? basilisk. or tacos.** (for **Cesare** )

Carlos hasn’t dated _extensively_ , but he has dated in high school and college and grad school, gone to awkward movies and had nervous drinks and pulled back chairs in fancy restaurants. He knows what dating is like, and dating in Night Vale has been...not entirely like anything he’s ever experienced before. There’s dinner, of course, and the usual butterflies, but every date with Cecil so far has also included some sort of crisis, emergency, catastrophe, or other major paranormal event the likes of which he’s started to become acclimated to here in Night Vale.

He’s predictably on edge, then, as they eat their tacos on the picnic tables outside of Jerry’s Tacos, waiting for the inevitable downturn of the evening.

Except, that’s not quite right, is it? Their dates are hardly ruined by bizarre happenings—in fact, Carlos finds them somewhat exciting and invigorating. He’s even sort of excited to see whatever is about to interrupt their dinner.

"Is something wrong?" Cecil asks after a moment of protracted silence.

Carlos smiles.

"No," he says honestly. "I’m just looking forward to the rest of the evening."


	15. being yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty explains the appeal of Halloween to Erik.

"This is a ridiculous holiday," Erik says, but it's a token protest and he doesn't stop Kitty from dragging him by the hand down the road. At twelve, Kitty thinks she may technically be a little old for trick-or-treating, but she and her friends back home were planning on going this year, so she might as well go with the kids here now that she's in New York. Especially once the professor told Erik he should take them. Erik spends most of his time locked up in his office, and Kitty finds him fascinating, even if the rest of the kids give him a wide berth. They're running ahead now, throwing glances over their shoulders while Kitty drags him along.

Erik is mean, but he's funny if you listen properly. He's smart, too, and Kitty knows, even without the knowing smile and nod from the professor, that Erik was the one that left the plate of apples and honey and challah for her on Rosh Hashanah. It reminded her of home.

"It's a fun holiday," Kitty tells him. "You get to be whoever you want to be!"

"Holidays about hiding one's identity are less exciting to someone who has spent most of his life forced to do so for his own good," Erik says. She thinks he means for it to be a rebuke, but it's not as mean as it could be. Instead of letting him be, she thinks for a moment.

"Then it's a day you can be yourself and not have to worry about it for once," she says.

He looks at her for a long time, wordless and quiet. The next time she tugs his hand, he comes willingly, and even squeezes hers back.


	16. you do what you have to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural - Charlie and Castiel do some trick-or-treating.

"At what point do we trick-or-treat?"

Castiel pronounces each word precisely, as if the phrase is unfamiliar to him. Charlie figures it actually is, and that's _super_ endearing. Everything about Castiel is super endearing. She still can't believe Dean kicked him out.

"We don't really," she says. "I mean, I guess we could, but we probably wouldn't get any candy. It's mostly a thing little kids do, and once you get over a certain age, the people handing out candy start to look at you funny." Charlie was able to extend that age quite a few years. She looked pretty young, and since she was usually on her own, adults were likely to believe her when she told them she was thirteen over and over again for five years. 

"As an adult," she continues, "Halloween is mostly about watching horror movies and eating candy in between giving it out to trick-or-treaters. The cycle continues, you know?"

"Will we get many trick-or-treaters here?" Castiel asks, looking around the grungy motel room. He has a point.

"Probably not," she admits. Which is a shame--she loves watching the kids in their tiny costumes. And dressing up in her own to hand out candy. And eating the leftover candy. "Awww. Maybe we can take a kid. Or make up a kid and--"

The idea smacks her across the face. The one time an adult is absolutely allowed to go trick-or-treating, even encouraged to do so.

"I have an idea," she says to Castiel.

***

Two hours later, they're standing in front of a moderately wealthy neighborhood in fairly screen-accurate _The Hobbit_ costumes that she cobbled together from her collection of _Lord of the Rings_ costumes. Charlie rings the doorbell and they begin the now familiar routine.

"Trick or Treat," Castiel says awkwardly.

"Hi," Charlie adds. "My little brother is sick and he's just _totally bummed_ he's missing Halloween this year, so we're trying to go around and get some candy for him."

"Well, isn't that sweet!" the older woman on the other side of the door says. "You're such a good sister, going to all that trouble."

"Well, you do what you have to for family," Charlie says. "Even when they're being total idiots," she adds under her breath. Kicking Castiel out. There had to be more to that story.

"Here you go," the woman says, putting a fistful of candy into Castiel's sack. "Happy Halloween!"

"Same to you!" Charlie says.

(She mails Dean half the candy, in the end. If she's going to be scamming candy off little old ladies, she should at least be sending it to her brother. or the closest she has. Even if he is a total idiot.)


	17. power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Night Vale - Carlos muses on his relationship with Cecil.

There’s a certain amount of power that Carlos holds in this relationship.

He’s very aware of it. He can’t not be. He cares about Cecil, yes, but sometimes the depth of Cecil’s affection, the easy way he announces not only to Carlos, but to all his listeners, how much he adores Carlos—it’s overwhelming. Cecil, who regularly broadcasts through bad weather and near-apocalyptic conditions, is quick to push the news aside to talk about Carlos, needed to cut to pre-recorded messages when he thought Carlos was dead.

Cecil’s devotion is near worship, and Carlos is painfully aware that it leaves him with a certain amount of leverage, a control over Cecil that he doesn’t know that he wants, but one that makes him feel powerful all the same. Cecil, Carlos suspects, would do anything Carlos asks of him. Cecil would believe anything Carlos tells him.

It’s heady. It’s dangerous. But it’s also strangely comforting.

Night Vale is terrifying. It goes against everything Carlos has spent his considerably lengthy years in school studying. Everything he’s learned is nonsense here, time doesn’t work, _nature_ doesn’t work, and there are nights the fear and anxiety are so staggering that even a sedative can’t help him sleep. He’s adjusting. He’s changing his worldview, little by little, and it’s easier with someone to rely on, with someone to navigate through the madness.

Carlos can ruin Cecil with a word, but Cecil is the only thing in this town keeping Carlos from being completely unmoored. They can both destroy each other, and somehow, that makes it better, easier, safer. Knowing Cecil can hurt him is what solidifies Carlos’ certainty that he will never hurt Cecil.

In a place where he can’t trust his senses and he can’t trust the facts, it’s good to have something he can trust: Cecil, steady and unwavering, anchoring him to this place, the one thing that Carlos knows he can rely on when the rest of the world is in chaos around him.


	18. kiss in the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles cuts an argument off at the pass. For the kissing meme on tumblr.

kiss in the rain

*

"I'm going to the store," Erik announces, effectively ending their argument when he grabs his coat and stomps out of the room.

"Fine!" Charles snaps at him, and watches him go, because Charles is absolutely right about this and he's absolutely not backing down and Erik is absolutely being an _ass_. He deserves to go out in the rain and he deserves to be wet and cold while he thinks about what he's said. 

And Charles will stay here alone and he'll be angry at first, like he is now. But the anger will burn off, like it always does, and he'll be alone and at a loose end while Erik wanders around in the rain to avoid coming home. And Charles will go to bed alone, cursing himself for being so _stubborn_ over something so _stupid_ , over Erik trying to pay him a _kindness_ , and he'll lay awake all night, aware of when Erik comes home and doesn't come to bed, dithering about going out and apologizing, but the bed to chair transfer and trying to hunt him down and swallowing his pride and stuck in that vulnerable place between sleeping and waking as he asks.... 

He swallows and follows after Erik. He doesn't pause for his coat, just opens the door and leaves it open behind him, flies down the ramp at a dangerous speed given the rain, and calls out, "Wait, just--wait!" before Erik can in the car

Erik hesitates. He closes the door of the car and crosses his arms. 

"You're crazy!" he snaps. "You're going to get sick! What the hell, Charles?" 

Charles stops in front of him, but he doesn't know what he's going to say, what he wants to say. He holds out his hand and, after a moment, Erik takes it. Charles uses it to pull him down until they're level, until Erik is close enough for Charles to kiss him. 

His lips are wet and warm, so different from the cold rainwater sliding down the back of Charles' shirt. Erik is stubbornly still for the first moment, for the second, and then his mouth opens under Charles', he kisses back and raises a hand to cup Charles' cheek. 

The angle is probably killing his back, but he stays there and matches Charles kiss for kiss, his mouth moving slowly, his hands brushing Charles' damp hair back from his face. 

"I'll wait up," Charles says when even the kisses aren't enough to ward off the chill. He shivers. 

Erik eyes the car and then turns back to Charles. 

"There's nothing I need that can't wait until morning," he says slowly, as if he's just coming to this conclusion after deliberation, as if the store wasn't a hollow excuse to get away from Charles. "Why don't we go upstairs and dry off?" 

"I'd like that," Charles says. 

They can argue more in the morning, but Charles has a sneaking suspicion that he's going to give in.


	19. upside-down kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU - Charles is learning to negotiate the rules of their...situation. Sometimes Erik provides a pleasant surprise. (For the kissing meme on Tumblr.)

"While I appreciate your dedication to your studies, it's Friday and we really need to get over to the dining hall before it closes," Charles says. He's lying on Erik's bed, a bed which Erik is tragically _not_ in. No, Erik is sitting on the floor, working on homework for one of his courses.

"Just another minute," Erik says. "I'm almost done. I just want to finish this while it's still fresh in my mind."

"You're a genius, you're not going to forget it, you're pulling straight As, it can wait until the weekend," Charles says.

"Not all of us can take twenty-two credits and still have a 4.0 GPA," Erik says without looking up. "Some of us need to work for our grades."

"I feel, at this point, it's appropriate to remind you of all the tests that you didn't have time to study for and still aced," Charles says. "And might I mention again that it's Friday?"

Erik sighs, but he puts his books aside. Charles normally isn't so dismissive of schoolwork, but he has this evening very carefully planned. They're going to go eat dinner and they're going to come back to the Kappa party already in swing. They'll have a few drinks, then Charles will complain that it's getting too loud, so they'll go outside and Charles will take the opportunity to use the beautiful night sky and the chill of the autumn night to sit very close to Erik and then kiss him.

A lot. Charles is going to kiss him a lot. And hopefully, _probably_ the stars will align and Erik will allow the kissing. Because it's not a date, it's just them hanging out and kissing and those are the rules--they're not dating, they're not a couple, they're just allowed to kiss sometimes and, fingers crossed, this will be an appropriate time.

Charles enjoys kissing Erik. And if Erik won't go out with him, if Erik won't sleep with him, if this is the only way Erik will accept Charles' physical affection, though elaborate plans to get them alone that aren't actually dates, then Charles is more than willing to go along with it.

He'll help Erik unpack his issues eventually. It might take some time, though, and in the meantime, he's eager to take whatever he can get.

He leans his head down over the edge of the bed, watching Erik upside down as he packs his things away. He turns back to Charles and sighs, but he's smiling.

"Good," Charles says. "I think there are peas and mashed potatoes tonight and--"

And then Charles forgets why that's important, because Erik has leaned forward and kissed him. Is kissing him. Upside down and slightly awkward, but it's Erik's lips on his, Erik's hand touching his face. Erik pulls back, just enough to smile, and Charles rolls onto his stomach.

"You like the weirdest things," Erik murmurs. He's flushed, or maybe blushing. Charles thinks he might be blushing too.

"Or we could skip dinner and stay here?" Charles suggests. Erik laughs.

"I wouldn't want to deprive you of peas and mashed potatoes," he says.

"Well," Charles says. "We still have some time until the dining hall closes." And, thrillingly, when Charles leans in, though Erik sighs, he doesn't pull away, but rather stands up, slowly, without breaking the kiss, to join Charles on the bed.

Never let it be said that Charles' plans aren't flexible.


	20. eyelid kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Night Vale - Carlos and Cecil in the aftermath of a crisis. (For the tumblr kissing meme.)

Carlos is getting better at the chaos, at the crises around every corner. He’s getting better at working faster and harder to find a solution in a place where his science doesn’t work right. He’s getting better at watching the world devolve into a kind of hysteria that defies scientific explanation and working through it and past it. He’s getting better at accepting this as the status quo—one disaster to another, with tiny breaks in between.

He’s getting better, even, at listening to Cecil in the middle of it all, listening to Cecil refuse to leave his radio station, listening to Cecil brush up against danger and death as he sends unlucky interns to investigate and talks about things that he shouldn’t. He’s getting used to the fact that there’s nothing he can do to stop it, that Cecil will do what Cecil wants, with little thought to his own safety.

He’s getting used to these things, but that doesn’t mean he has to like them.

This, though—this he likes. The denouement of each catastrophe, the conclusion to every crisis—Cecil in his bed, or Carlos in Cecil’s. A sunset. A smile. A promise whispered in a place where it’s impossible to keep promises, where stability can’t exist, where neither of them have any idea what the next day will bring.

This is the thing he’s best at: sharing a pillow in the dying light and pressing a kiss to each of Cecil’s eyelids, to the curve of his cheekbones, to the corner of his mouth.

They’ve survived the day and they’ve arrived back here, whole and happy. The sun is setting—who cares if it’s the right time? The fact of the matter is that it is setting, the day is done, and as the light of the sun is replaced by lights they can’t explain, Carlos is exactly where he wants to be, with the one part of Night Vale that will always make sense to him, the one part of Night Vale that’s felt like home almost since the start.

Cecil dozes in his arms, and Carlos doesn’t think about tomorrow. Why would he? Nothing could get better than this moment, here and now, regardless of what the morning will bring.


	21. married ghosthunters kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Married Ghosthunters AU - Erik doesn't like it when Charles takes risks.

The most difficult part of the whole thing is staying professional. Erik normally has no problem keeping a handle on his emotions, but Charles has always brought out the worst in him, and it's sometimes hard for Erik to remember not to shout his frustration or speak his mind when they're on cases. He's used to arguing with Charles, he knows that they argue as a way to suss out their points and find their way to the truth, but he doesn't need a lecture from Charles to understand that the two of them debating the merits of different theories doesn't inspire confidence in their clients. These people are terrified enough as it is, some of them rightly so, and seeing the men they've hired to help them unable to agree with each other doesn't ease their fears.

Today, though, Erik is fighting to remain professional for an entirely different reason. He's see Charles connect to spirits before—one of their boons in all of this is Charles' ability, after all. Charles can feel when there's a presence, no matter what it is, but there are certain types of disturbances, mostly ghosts, that he can actually connect with, mentally. It's frightening to watch Charles become a conduit, but Erik has seen it before.

This, though…this was different. This wasn't Charles acting as a conduit, this was something trying to get inside of him.

He shakes the hand of the young father who called them out and promises they'll be back for an exorcism soon. He forces a confident smile, and he is confident they can banish this thing, but he feels sick inside as he crosses the driveway to where Charles is already sitting in the van.

He manages to contain himself until they've pulled back onto the street, the house shrinking behind them.

"Are you okay?" He reaches across the space between their seats and takes Charles' hand, squeezes it in his own.

"I'm fine, love," Charles assures him. "I'm...spooked. That's all. It was silly. There's nothing lingering, I'm not dangerous, it's still in the house."

Charles is chalk white, still, and shaking. Erik pulls over and parks the car, throwing on the hazards. He turns more fully to Charles and holds him by the shoulders.

"Don't lie to me," Erik says. "I know what I saw. Charles. Are you okay?"

"No," Charles admits quietly. He doesn't elaborate, but when Erik pulls him close, Charles meets him in a kiss, hard and desperate, more fear than affection, his hands fisting tightly into Erik's shirt, as if to keep him from backing away. Erik kisses back, but follows Charles' lead, allows Charles to guide the kiss harder and harder, and then, abruptly, gentle. He pulls back, and Erik rests their foreheads together.

"I'll call the priest as soon as we get home," he says, though the priest generally prefers Charles—actually Christian, lapsed as he may be—to conduct their business.

"Good," Charles whispers. "We need to act fast before that thing does something to them."

Erik nods and sits back, putting the car back into drive and heading home with speed and a purpose, though he's less concerned about the presence hurting the family than he is about what it may have already done to Charles.


	22. hawkguy - bodyguard au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkguy - Clint is Kate's bodyguard. Kate doesn't think she needs a bodyguard. Kate is probably right.

"Miss Bishop!" Barton hisses, following her down the alley.

" _Ms_. Bishop," Kate tells him. "Come on. It's 2013."

" _Ms._ Bishop," Barton says with enough of a sarcastic edge that Kate thinks it might be worth it to keep him around for a couple of weeks instead of finding a way to dump him the way she has with the last three. "You really should get in the car and go home if you're not going to the party. Your father--"

"My father can go screw himself," Kate says with more attitude than she would normally be able to pull off when talking about her father. The low light of the alley hides her embarrassed blush. She doesn't know how to talk to him anymore and she certainly doesn't know how to talk about him to her _bodyguard_ , a stranger who slouches and twitches in his tuxedo, but has the practiced eye of a sharpshooter.

"I don't really care what your dad does, but it _is_ kinda my job to protect you, so I think we should--"

She thinks he sees the movement the same moment she does-his stance changes, his posture, the way he holds himself. She's still buzzing, though, and she's done this a hundred million times with Teddy, or so it always feels when she comes home from hours at the gym. Her muscles know what to do even before her brain processes it. The mugger is over her shoulder and against the wall and then crumpled on the ground in a heap.

She breathes hard in the ensuing silence. Barton stares at her like she's grown a second head.

"What was that about protecting me?" she asks, because she can't help it--the set-up is too good.

"Uh..." Barton says. "It's possible your dad's paying me too much."

Kate shakes her head and smiles, then heads back down the alley. "You coming?" she calls over her shoulder.

"Never should have left the circus," Barton mutters as he follows her.


	23. before and after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments before his big keynote, Charles is getting nervous. Erik helps him put it in perspective. 
> 
> Based on this photo: http://24.media.tumblr.com/42d62315c7927cb48632bd795c187dfc/tumblr_mt50n96VFl1qbtmrio1_400.jpg

Charles wants to be mad. He's nervous enough and actually sweating and shaking because--well, when he came up with this idea, he imagined maybe a hundred or so attendees, mostly people he knew. He didn't imagine needing to switch venues _twice_. He didn't imagine _media coverage_. He didn't imagine he'd be giving a keynote to over a thousand people.

He's a junior professor! He doesn't even have tenure! He's gotten press for things he's published, but science press and _press_ press are two different things. He's entirely unprepared for this, he's going to throw up his breakfast (tea and two bites of toast), he's going to scream, and he asked for the room to empty so he can vomit and scream in peace. A peace that doesn't involve Erik _snapping pictures_.

He wants to be mad. He wants to shout to get rid of some of this excess adrenaline, except it's Erik, grinning at him from the other side of a camera, that sly smirk that drives Charles crazy, and he finds himself smiling instead.

Just a little, just barely, but Erik catches it. Of course he does.

"I want a before and after," Erik says, tucking the digital camera into his back pocket. Erik's wearing jeans. Erik doesn't need to put on a suit because Erik's not about to give the keynote at what was supposed to be a tiny mutant ethics symposium that now has tickets being scalped on eBay.

"Before and after?" Charles asks.

Erik picks his tie up from the desk and approaches, looping it around Charles' neck once he gets close enough.

"Before and after you become one of the most well-known and talked about mutants in the world," Erik says.

Charles swallows and offers Erik what he hopes is a confident smile. Erik smiles back and neatly knots his tie.

 _Just because I don't always agree with you doesn't mean I'm not proud of you,_ Erik tells him.

 _I know,_ Charles replies, because he does. Erik calls him arrogant twenty times a day, but he also calls him brilliant, and Erik is one of the brightest people Charles has ever met. His mind shines like a beacon and his thoughts are complex and fascinating and he thinks Charles is going to change the world.

"I'm ready," Charles says.

"You are," Erik agrees, and holds open the door to the stage.


	24. sing me to sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles sings to the baby, but never in front of Erik.

Charles sings to the baby, but never in front of Erik.

The first time it happens, Erik thinks he’s dreaming. It takes him a moment to realize Charles’ voice isn’t coming from his head, but from the baby monitor. When Charles comes back to bed later, Erik asks, “Were you singing?”

"You’re dreaming, love, go back to sleep," Charles says.

He notices it again and again after that, whenever Charles thinks Erik isn’t home, isn’t awake, isn’t listening. Erik doesn’t know why it has to be a secret—Charles won’t be headlining at Carnagie Hall, but his voice isn’t bad and it’s made all the better by Erik’s fondness for it. He starts listening for it idly, then obsessively. Instead of rolling over when the baby wakes him and it’s Charles’ turn to get up, he feigns sleep to listen at the monitor for snatches of 90s pop songs and the Beatles and whatever’s popular on the radio.

It goes on for weeks and then, just as abruptly, Erik decides he’s tired of playing. He waits until Charles has started rocking Lorna back to sleep before he quietly leaves the bed and follows Charles into the next room. When Charles sees him, he stops rocking and actually blushes. Lorna starts to fuss, though, and Erik says, “No, keep going.”

They’re treated to the end of a song that Erik recognizes from middle school dances and then a Magnetic Fields’ song that Erik likes. Lorna falls asleep before the end and Charles gently puts her back in her crib. He stays at the side of the crib, staring down at her, and Erik crosses the room to join him.

"I’m not very good," Charles says. "It used to…bother my mum. But Lorna’s too little to know the difference yet and I like it."

"I like it too," Erik tells him.

The next morning, Erik wakes up to an enthusiastic rendition of a Queen song. When he joins his family in the kitchen, Charles smiles at him and keeps singing without missing a beat.


	25. ghost triptych

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three three-line ficlets about Charles, Erik, and ghosts. For **ourgirlfriday**.

**Charles and Erik fighting ghosts**

"Come on come on come on," Charles murmurs under his breath as he watches Erik race down the stairs and sprint across the hall, book hugged against his chest. Light bulbs are bursting in his wake, the screams are getting worse, and the machines are going haywire, but before the fog following Erik down the hall can coalesce into a creature, he reaches the salt circle and crashes into Charles’ arms.

Together, they hurriedly page through the book to find the appropriate Latin, and while the room outside of the circle turns into something from his nightmares, Charles still finds himself breathing easier now that Erik is here with him, safe.

*

**Ghosts fighting Charles and Erik**

They just need to get out, they just need to get out, if they can get out they’ll be okay, if they can get out, they’ll survive, but the Latin hadn’t worked and the salt was useless and the only thing keeping Charles from having a hysterical fit is Erik against his back, pressing him to run faster. The voice bellowing through the house telling them they’ll never leave shakes him to his bones and he closes his eyes as they sprint up the stairs, trying to block it out and entirely missing that, part way up, the stairs abruptly end.

 

When he wakes up—if it can be properly called that—he knows in his bones he’s never leaving, but at least Erik’s hand is still curled in his own.

*

**Charles and Erik as ghosts**

The first few years were the hardest—full of anger and resentment and disbelief that this had happened to them, blaming each other, blaming themselves, rattling cupboards and flickering lights as their arguments grew heated and barbed and vicious.

Things have calmed since, though, and Charles has gone back to believing that maybe their fate isn’t as terrible as he’d first believed—he can’t imagine being this grateful to spend his eternity with anyone who wasn’t Erik.

Now if only they can get these damn people to stop moving into their house...


	26. concilliabule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Concilliabule** \- _A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot._

"I don't like all this sneaking around," Erik mutters as he slips into the darkened classroom. Charles is sitting at the front, behind his desk. The only light in the room is the muted glow of his desk lamp. It makes his skin seem golden and warm. Erik reminds himself that he's supposed to be cross.

"We do what we have to," Charles says. "You know what would happen if this spread too far."

Erik says nothing. He does know, and he has to hold back a shudder at the thought.

"We both know what we're doing," Charles continues. "We don't need anyone's blessing or judgment. This is about us, not about the people around us."

"I concede the point," he says. "Still, we could just as easily be sneaking around somewhere less suspicious. Say, a bedroom."

Charles gives him a look. Charles is unfairly sexy when he's pretending to be irritated at Erik being pedantic.

"It's my classroom, darling," Charles says. "It's not suspicious for us to be lurking around here, either."

"We could sneak around somewhere we could get a nice dinner," Erik continues, undaunted. "A bottle of wine, maybe. Somewhere dim and private with candles." Charles' skin glows the same gold color under candlelight. Erik knows from experience. He's never been a fan of the traditionally romantic secluded night out on the town, but Charles has changed that.

Charles has changed a lot of things.

"But isn't the subterfuge romantic?" Charles asks. "Isn't the whole idea of this romantic? The secrecy, keeping it private, between us, having this thing hidden from the whole world?" He smiles then, slow but luminous, and Erik has to admit that the idea holds some appeal. This thing between them is strong, but infinitely precious. Erik has no doubt it would be able to weather anything the world threw at it, but Erik would prefer to keep it close and guarded and just for them.

He sighs, because it's his job to be obstinate about this, and then leans over the desk to kiss Charles.

"Fine," he says. "The secrecy isn't unappealing." He sits on the edge of Charles' desk, stretching his legs out next to Charles' wheelchair. Charles grins at him.

"And we only have a few more weeks to savor it," Charles reminds him. "So let's put the finishing touches on the plan, sneak off to have 'I-have-a-secret' sex, and start the final preparations."

"Preparations?" Erik asks. "What else could we possibly need? We have ourselves, we have a marriage license, we have rings, and I imagine it won't be difficult to find a willing judge once we get to the Catskills. I don't plan on letting you out of the hotel once we've done the deed, so we don't really even need to pack any clothing."

"So romantic," Charles says dryly. "I can see, now, why I've chosen to elope with you."

"You've chosen to elope with me because the alternative is letting your sister, my mother, your students, and your meddling friends throw us a lavish spectacle of a wedding that goes against everything that we want for ourselves, because we're both intimately familiar with your inability to say no to Raven or my mother or Moira or any of the pests you teach," Erik says.

Charles opens his mouth to respond and then pauses.

"You're absolutely correct," he says after a moment. "Now, hand me my laptop so we can book a hotel for our secret getaway."

"Anything for you," Erik says, but even as he hands it over, he knows that Charles can tell he's not just talking about the computer.

Although he'd still much rather they were sneaking around a bedroom.


	27. color commentary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old Retired Dudes - Charles and Erik watch a movie together.

Erik is a strange tangle of contradictions. He always has been. From the philosophical choices of their youth through countless encounters and crusades over the years. Even now, there's a strange conflict to a man who mocks Charles' vanity and yet spends twice as much time getting ready whenever they leave the house.

This, too, sometimes seems discordant. Something about Erik's dignity, the way in which he holds himself, the respect commanded by his posture makes this seem somehow...beneath him. Any misgivings Charles had about physical affection were quickly worn away by years of small children climbing onto his lap to seek comfort. Still, he doubts Erik has had quite the same history. Instead, he simply feels no shame in this. He sees it as black and white as he sees everything else: sometimes, he wants to hold Charles, so he does.

He's a leader of men, a former terrorist, a man whose very name makes people flinch in fear, and he's sprawled on the couch with Charles' head tucked beneath his chin as they watch a BBC miniseries.

"This is tripe," he says.

"We could turn it off and go out," Charles suggests, though their usual groceries-and-brunch date isn't until tomorrow.

"I don't want to go out," Erik says. "But if you're subjecting me to this as punishment for wanting to stay in, I won't restrain myself from making comments."

"It's not a punishment," Charles insists. "You're merely catering to my whims, as you're wont to do."

Erik snorts but says nothing for a full minute until, "Oh, she's a _twit_!"

"See?" Charles says. "You put up with my movies, I put up with your commentary."

"I could get up and leave," Erik says.

"No, you couldn't," Charles says. 

Erik, who once strode into battle lifting tanks into the air in his commanding wake, snuggles closer.

"No," he agrees. "I couldn't."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ghosts (The Ouija Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587626) by [heyjupiter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter)
  * [Mortal Fools (A Midsummer Night's Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212981) by [heyjupiter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter)




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